


Turn Into

by Jayson Vooyrhees (SailingMishap)



Category: Basketball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailingMishap/pseuds/Jayson%20Vooyrhees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into three Christmases in the life of Dirk Nowitzki that change everything else in the life of Dirk Nowitzki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Into

The first year that Dirk Nowitzki spends Christmas with Steve Nash, they play basketball. 

Dirk hasn't seen his family since he's moved to the States, and the time between then and now has been painstakingly slow, with a new language to learn, and with _out_  a season to occupy him.  
But he's gotten by, thanks to Steve. He's passed the time with night-long shooting sessions, dinners at the sort of restaurants he never knew existed, and even attended some baseball games, despite not understanding the first thing about them. He can't wait to tell his parents and sister about his new life, for them to see his apartment, and especially can't wait for them to meet Steve, and to meet Steve's family as well.

Everything is better than he'd hoped. Steve's family is so warm and cheerful and  _accepting_  that it makes Dirk wonder why he was ever nervous in the first place.  
Until his  _own_  family starts acting like, well, his family. His mother lets him know that even though he's living on his own, he should still make his bed if he knows he'll have company visiting. His sister teases him about his buck teeth. It's in good-nature, but after it gets such a reaction from Steve, Dirk vows to throw her out on the street by morning. Then his  _father_  starts asking him about the  _girls_  in Dallas, and Dirk feels as if his head may just spin off. And all this in front of  _Steve_.

After Dirk exits to the kitchen to "get a glass of water" for the third time in a half-hour, Steve joins him a few minutes later, basketball under his arm.

"You wanna get out of here."

It’s more of an observation than a question. Grinning, Steve chest-passes the ball across the island-counter, catching Dirk off-guard, but coaxing a small smile from him nonetheless.

Dirk leans back against the sink, and peers into the living room. There's his family, that loves him so much and annoys him even more at times. He knows they'd understand if he snuck out, if only for an hour or so, after he spent all day with them. But he'd just feel so  _guilty_.

"I can't."

His smile fades, as he's rotating the ball around between his hands. He nods toward the doorway to the living room and laughs uneasily. "Family, you know?"

"Yeah," Steve crosses over to stand beside Dirk, props an arm against the counter behind Dirk's waist. "I know, I have one too."

A few goodbyes, fifteen minutes, and several blocks later, they're at Reverchon, playing a game of H-O-R-S-E. Dirk wins. He dunks when Steve is at H-O-R-S, and Steve doesn't even attempt it, just fires the ball right at a giggling Dirk, pegging him square in the shoulder.

  
The second year that Dirk Nowitzki spends Christmas with Steve Nash is nothing out of the ordinary, and maybe that's what Dirk finds so extraordinary about it.

It's Dirk's first full season on his own, and turns out being his first Christmas on his own as well. And Dirk's okay with that. After all, he's twenty-one, he can handle it, and there’s certain to be more Christmas Days alone in his NBA career. Besides, his family's going to be there in less than a week, for New Year's.

But it's still Christmas.

He considers calling his mother, but reasons with himself that his family is probably in the middle of lunch, and telling his mother how much he misses her, how badly he wishes he were in Germany right now, would only ruin her Christmas, and out of nowhere, everything has become so  _overwhelming_.

So he calls Steve.

Steve can barely get out a “Merry Christmas” before Dirk begins lamenting how homesick he is, how he probably should just go back to Germany anyway because it's not like he's doing anything to help the Mavericks, and repeats this sentiment in about eight different ways, before-

"Do you want me to come over, or...?"

"No!" Dirk blurts without thinking, even though he meant to say yes. "No, it's. I'm. You don't...," his voice trails off. He hates the thought of Steve seeing him all frazzled, out of sorts.

"Dirk."

"Yeah. Okay, yeah." He still likes the thought of seeing Steve at all, though, and a slow smile creeps across his mouth

"Good, because I'm already on my way."

The day flies by, leftover pizza while watching the Pacers and Knicks, into a night complete with a fancy dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and red-and-green M&M’s and a bottle of cheap champagne that they had started on Dirk's birthday, and hadn't touched since. They watch Christmas movies, just like last year (and Dirk actually enjoys them this time, now that he can fully comprehend what's being said). ESPN is on by default, in the background, and the two are talking and laughing until, at some time between the second and third re-airing of  _ **SportsCenter**_ , they fall asleep on each other.

Dirk wakes to Steve's rumpled hair tickling his nose. He has this curiously satisfying notion that if they didn't need to be on a plane to Sacramento in less than four hours, he'd lay there as long as time would allow. Because this day-after-Christmas morning, with Steve's smile pressed into his shoulder, and Steve's hand spread idly on his shirt, over his heart, is more thrilling and promising than any Christmas morning he'd ever woken up to, and that yeah, he  _will_  be alright after all, just so long as Steve doesn't go anywhere.

  
The third year that Dirk Nowitzki spends Christmas with Steve Nash, he kisses Steve. Dirk didn't plan it that way. He also didn't plan on anything  _else_  that happened that day.

The Mavericks are 18-and-11 by the 25th, and that's great, but Dirk's been excited for Christmas ever since it was established that his family and Steve's family was going to visit them again this year. He doesn't  _have_  to hang out with Steve and the Nash clan on Christmas, but anything else seems almost wrong.

It's one of the better Christmases he's experienced, and then his mother asks him if he's seeing anybody. As he's too busy paying attention to Steve debate soccer with his father, he simply replies that he's not interested in a girl right now. Nobody else notices what, in Dirk's mind, is this huge slip-up, but he does. What he  _meant_  to say was that he wasn't interested in  _anybody_  right now, but that's not true, because  _fuck_ , he  _is_  interested in someone, not a girl though.

He'd been right. He didn't  _need_  Steve, and hadn’t for quite a while. He just  _wanted_  him. And of course he comes to this conclusion at the worst possible time.

He avoids talking to Steve, even being in the same room as him, as much as he can for the rest of the day. After an agonizingly slow and awkward dinner, Dirk stations himself in the corner of the living room, sipping on his coffee, trying to get a grasp on what's going on, in his head and in his heart. Maybe it's just all the added emotion that the holidays seem to instill in him. But as he watches Steve, on the other side of the room, talking animatedly with both of their families, this pure affection sweeps through him that has absolutely nothing to do with what day it is.

His mouth is suddenly parch-dry and he downs the rest of his scalding-hot coffee in one go. He tells his sister that he's feeling light-headed, needs to get some air, and hurries out of Steve's place without another word to anybody.

The five or so minutes it takes him to walk back to his apartment feels like hours. It's an overall pleasant day, mild yet windy enough to make it seasonal, but to Dirk, it's completely miserable. The only suitable weather right now, he thinks, is three feet of snow he could just bury himself in for days.

The first thing he does when he arrives home is open a bottle of alcohol and start drinking. He doesn't even know what kind it is, just that it's liquor of some sort and will hopefully help him forget this unexpected, bewildering sensation that only Steve seems to trigger in him.

And it's also so much easier. So much easier than coming to terms with what he knows is the real cause.

A knock at the door startles Dirk out of pondering whether or not he should drink every other alcoholic beverage in his refrigerator. It's Steve. Of  _course_.

"Hey!" Steve's breathless, his cheeks are wind-stung red, as if he just set a personal best running to Dirk's apartment. But he's smiling all the same. Dirk nods back, acknowledging him, making sure Steve sees his dour expression. Maybe he'll go away.

Instead, Steve steps inside, still smiling, but now in that forced way he smiles when he's about to go on one of his big-brotherly "Dirk-you-know-I-care-about-you" lectures. "You alright? You kinda left without even saying goodbye and-"

"Yeah, I  _know_ ," Dirk cuts him off harshly.

"Oh." Steve clucks his tongue on roof of his mouth. "Oh," he starts again, and stops there; he doesn't have anything to continue with. He just sticks his hands in his jacket pockets, and rocks back on his heels as an uncomfortable tension spreads through the air.

Dirk becomes extremely intent on fidgeting with his shirt cuff for the next minute or two. "Look, I..." he glances up at Steve, who, by the looks of it, isn't at all sympathetic to Dirk's current state of gloom, and is just waiting for Dirk to apologize for being a jackass for no reason. "I think I need to..."

He pauses.

He doesn't know  _what_  he needs to do. He turns and heads for his room, totally aware of Steve trailing after him.

"Stop." They’re in the hallway to the bedroom when Steve seizes Dirk’s arm, and spins Dirk to face him.

" _What_?" Dirk attempts to sound threatening, but he can hear the pathetic break in his own voice that makes it more of something halfway between vulnerable and confused. He jerks away from Steve, and keeps down the hall, hoping Steve will get the hint, that it's not smart for him to be this concerned about someone this smitten with him, not now, not unless...

"Just... _stop_ ," Steve reaches for Dirk's arm again and Dirk swats him away forcefully, knocking Steve backward a couple steps.

Steve shoves him right back, "Fuck, Dirk, it's  _Christmas_."

Dirk pauses, takes a deep breath. He's never had his entire body go this tense before, but he manages to keep his tone steady. "So?"

Steve rubs at his wrist where Dirk struck it, and keeps quiet for a few seconds, as if he’s trying to find just the right way to phrase his words. "So, it's not  _my_  fault that you're-"  
Dirk whirls around and snatches Steve by the shirt with both hands, lifting him a few inches off the ground, and slams him back against the wall. He doesn't want to hear the "gay" word, especially not from his best friend. That, yeah, he's gay for.

For a few moments, they're staring at each other. Dirk looks plain spooked, eyes wide with alarm; he's never lost his composure like this, but it  _is_  Steve's fault. Steve is the only one who’s ever made him  _feel_  this much whatever-he's-feeling. Steve's steely glare is fixed on him, daring him to go right ahead; if Dirk wants to hit him, that's fine. It doesn't change the fact that he knows, that he  _has_  known, long before it took Dirk to figure it all out.  
For a split-second, Dirk thinks he really  _would_  rather punch Steve, because somehow punching him would cause far less damage than what he actually wants to do.  
But he kisses him, this crushing, breathswallowing sort of a kiss, so hard that he can't even tell, or care, or  _want_  to care, if Steve is kissing him back.

He is.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, so....I wrote this at the end of 2006, lawl. But I'm still proud of it! :O I sort of got out of basketball slash for a while but they're back as my OTP of life <3


End file.
